Less Talk More Rokk
by Loud Mucker Complex
Summary: With nothing better to do, Gilbert let himself be dragged into a basement party. And he felt someone staring. Well, it's just his luck that that someone is Braginski. Other pairings inside. Definitely a song-fic.


**Title:** L.T.M.R

**Author:** Sacchan

**Chapter:** 1/1

**Rating/Genre:** M/romance, AU, comedy

**Fandom(s): **HETALIA

**Warnings:** sexual situation, male x male relationship, handjob, OOCness

**Pairing(s):** Russia x Prussia (main)

**Comments:** I don't give a shit to those who flame. And for those who don't, you guys are so lovely~ please enjoy this!

**Summary:** It was when you realized that a pair of violet eyes was watching you. Intensely. Intimidating. Curiously. It made your lithe body squirm.

**Beta Reader:** dellums (I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DELL-O! *kisses*)

**Holy Disclaimer:**

_I APPARENTLY OWN __**NOTHING**__ BUT THE STORY_

_This is just a fiction, if there's any __**same name, title, or place**__ it's all purely __**coincidental.**__ I __**really have no idea**__ if there's a fic titled this anywhere else. This story has __**nothing related to real life.**_

**[x.x.x]**

FREEZEPOP – Less Talk More Rokk

The basement scene is dark and dusty

The musty smell of stale air

Cobwebs dangle overhead

People stumble down the stairs

You promised the air that you were so gonna kill your buddies. If it hadn't been for a certain French kidnapping-extraordinaire and his innocent-faced Spanish sidekick, you wouldn't have been stumbling down that long hallway that day. It was a lazy Friday night, and you were supposed to be beating down your blonde brother at an intense round of Guitar Hero II and completing some Fatal Frame shit. But you were there instead, far away from any video games. Finally arriving at the venue. No, rather, it was an oversized, dirty basement. You wondered if all those cobwebs were just decoration. In the dim light you saw your kidnappers stumble, dragging their boyfriends around. You rolled your crimson eyes. Is it really that lame to come alone?

_Let's get the party started, yo_

_The band are in the corner of the floor_

_Their songs are pretty kick-ass_

_We're dancing like we've never danced before_

It took just ten seconds to see the room full of teenagers. Recognizing some, you nodded to them. Between people, you saw your brother and his Italian lover, and were about to disturb them both when an American boy, who must have been the host, shouted, "Perspiration to the max! Let's get the party started!" You let out a halfhearted cheer along with the others, everyone excited and energetic. Your eyes instantly widened in anticipation when you spotted a hot blonde girl stepping up to the small band setup in one corner. She held her microphone mouth-level. And the music blasted. And the room was chaos. You danced along. At this point, you had forgiven your friends by twelve percent.

_The music is so loud_

_The kids are so young_

_All over the world_

_They wanna have fun_

Damn, her voice was sexy, and so you started dancing more. You danced and danced and danced, forgiveness rising to thirty-three percent. Your eyes wandered off from the band's big-breasted guitarist to the thumping drum set. Heck, your biggest Hungarian enemy was sitting behind it, but you couldn't help the smile that stretched across your face. You felt the entire world drown in full excitement. Your French friend was already ravishing a certain British mouth, you noticed, and shortly after that realized that the bassist of the band was an underage boy with a similar enormous pair of eyebrows.

_The music is so loud_

_It drowns out the talk_

_All over the world_

_Just give us more rokk_

Your ears had finally grown tough and you kept dancing despite the volume. You grinned grimly at how stupid that one Austrian guy was. He was probably deaf, you thought, as you watched him try to build a proper conversation with a small girl from Liechtenstein. He was crazy, out of his mind. This was no place for a how-to-make-an-apple-strudel-nicely-without-burning-it discussion. Really. What a turn-off. You laughed and went back to dancing, and he finally gave up and let the small—she's one of those underage guests; her brother must be lacking in the brains department—little girl wander off to nowhere. And you were back, rocking and jumping.

_The music is so loud_

_The night is so young_

_All over the world_

_We wanna have fun_

For a moment you wondered if the American boy was an orphan. Or maybe his parents were just as insane as their son. What was his purpose for having a basement party anyway? Was today his birthday? But no one brought gifts, and there weren't any gay, frosting-decorated cupcakes either. So you settled on the first conclusion. Or wait... why don't you stop your analyzing and just have fun on this early Friday night? Thinking that there were still many hours to go, you were pleased. You'd forgotten your friends' sins by then. And concentrated on having fun for the rest of the night.

_The music gets louder_

_Please don't call the cops_

_All over the world_

_We just wanna rokk_

You burst into a fit of laughter when the volume got louder, not really caring or intending for anyone else to hear it. For once, your Hungarian enemy won by drowning out your hyena-like laughter with her blaring drum-banging. The party seemed to have proceeded to its anti-climax state. It was weird for you to care, but the party was cool, so you hoped there was no one calling the police. Because seriously, the party ROKKS! You were slightly grinding your ass against your brother's, and... It was when you realized that a pair of violet eyes was watching you. Intensely. Intimidating. It made your lithe body squirm. You felt hot and bothered suddenly. This wasn't so pleasant. With a start, you realized you didn't like the attention.

_The kitchen scene is damp and sticky_

_They're lined up at the keg of PBR_

_We're yelling conversations_

_Thru the floor you hear the keyboards and guitar_

You panted when you reached the staircase's highest step and silently followed a blonde Norwegian to the kitchen. Hell, when you're at a party, you just somehow know where the kitchen is. The Norwegian met up with a tall Danish guy, whom he was being goosed by shamelessly. You laughed, and then laughed more when a familiar WHACK! sound accompanied the familiar sight. Man, that was one hell of a slap. Then you heard your name being called. Even when you saw your Spanish friend, you didn't want to kill him anymore. You saw some people lining up to get some expensive fusion soda. A cute Canadian was the one serving. The not-so-vague sounds of music in the basement almost silently flirted with you to come back. Mind wandering, you thought that you kind of missed the intense stare. The purple gaze. He was that feared Russian. But you'd always been a masochist.

_I'm getting kind of antsy_

_I just came up here to get some air_

_This isn't where the music's at_

_I guess I'm going back down there_

You cursed silently to yourself for being so... gay. Your heart suddenly churned tight inside your chest when you were reminded of his gaze. It was… it was teasing. It slowly drained the blood from your head and gathered it all to your crotch. You indeed came up here, away from the thriving bodies and screaming music, for some air because the oxygen down there in the basement was probably at its limit. But something inside you wanted... something. With an excuse that was kind of a, "hey, man, this place feels so dead" directed at no one in particular, you decided that you need to go back down. For some more attention. When you walked down the steps, you thought - with some concern - that you didn't hate the stare anymore.

_The music is so loud_

_The kids are so young_

_All over the world_

_They wanna have fun_

When you went back down, the crowd hadn't stopped dancing. If anything, they seemed to be crazier than before. The Belarusian vocalist sang out Poker Face with her low, girly voice. You caught a glimpse of a long haired Chinese trying to stop an Asian girl from taking pictures of someone doing something. When you slipped between people and got closer, you noticed the subject of the girl's little photography session was the host of the party, who going to town with groping his Japanese lover. Oh-oh, the Chinese guy had lost and was dragged by a very tall Korean and another Asian guy who claimed he came from Hong Kong. So the Taiwanese girl popped her camera from her ridiculously long sleeve and continued her previous activity. How amusing some people could be. You were so sure that this had something to do with the Hungarian guitarist in the corner - Oh wait, the band had changed position. How cool.

_The music is so loud_

_It drowns out the talk_

_All over the world_

_Just give us more rokk_

Satisfied that you were pretty up-to-date about things happening, you went through the crowd to get to the front. You ignored an annoyed stare from a Swedish man that you stepped on and continued walking, moving in the direction of what turned out to be a set of turntables and thumping speakers. You hadn't even known that there was a DJ! Oh, he was the Korean from before. Beside him stood a tan girl with two red ribbons tied in her black hair. The two of them mixed up the bridge of the song, while the band members were dancing on the small stage. The underage bassist was chatting with a fragile Latvian. Maybe a conversation in the middle of a crazy party was only a failure for a certain snobby Austrian.

_The music is so loud_

_The night is so young_

_All over the world_

_We wanna have fun_

You finally reached the front line, and took the opportunity to glance at your watch because there were some lights there. It wasn't as late as you expected; only 9 P.M. At that moment, you felt a presence behind you. Goosebumps were forming as a hot breath smeared over the back of your neck. Turning your head a little, you saw the smiling face of a particular Russian. And your heart started to beat faster. "Let's dance." It was more like he was repeating the lyric that was being sung, you didn't even realize that the song had changed. "Let's have fun," he whispered as you leaned back into his chest, grinning.

_The music gets louder_

_Please don't call the cops_

_All over the world_

_We just wanna rokk_

Again, you found yourself squirming. But this time, harder, because the feeling was so concrete. You both started to dance in a matching rhythm, filling every dip and curve created by your bodies. You once again hoped that no one would call the police, because you found that the party was suddenly just an inch away from its climax. He grabbed your upper arm to turn you around. For once, you faced him properly. And you knew you were surrendering. You only smirked when he dragged you to God-knows-where. You were expecting a wider, more spacious spot, but, hell, he threw you against the damp wall.

_The basement scene is hot and sweaty_

_Bodies packed from wall to wall_

_The band are tearing thru their set_

_The encore is the best of all_

Your body had long been wet with sweat, and you'd been very hot ever since the moment you caught those eyes. You moaned deliberately when he stuck his leg between your thighs and started to form a circular movement. You clawed at the wall behind you, fighting the urge to just cling onto your partner's broad shoulders. But as if on cue, he grabbed your pale, sweating hands and circled them around his neck. He leaned in and connected both of your damp-with-sweat temples and grinned, teasing your crotch again. The band was back and your eyes went wide. Nobody seemed to mind their sticky, sweat-covered outfits.

_Let's keep this party going, yo_

_We've got nowhere else to be_

_Someone yells, 'less talk more rokk'_

_Mostly unironically_

Your Hungarian enemy was strumming notes you loved. Holy poo, it was your favorite song, and the most orgasmic one, as far as you were concerned. "Less Talk More Rokk" by FREEZEPOP, something you played along to on Guitar Hero without missing a single note. It was such a good choice for the encore. Your once-distracted attention was instantly yanked back when you felt a wet tongue licking down your jawline. You shuddered in pure ecstasy, clawing desperately to his smooth, pale blonde strands. Those lips showered your cheeks and shoulders with open-mouthed—hungry, starving, famished—kisses and you heard him almost groan. He didn't touch your trembling lips at all, really. And it was driving you crazy. Throwing aside your pride, dignity and anything else related, you pulled him down. You could feel him grinning in a vulgar way, and he shoved his tongue inside your waiting lips.

_The music is so loud_

_The kids are so young_

_All over the world_

_They wanna have fun_

You closed your eyes, thrilled by how that tongue worked inside your wet cavern. You shivered when a hand snuck under your black V-neck t-shirt. Suddenly you loved those tees so much. They obviously made you look way too irresistible, impossible to not molest. Perfect. He sucked and licked and bit and you moaned and grabbed. Saliva dribbled out from the corners of your mouth down your chin. The previous hand palmed your toned stomach. Up and up. You screamed when he pinched your perk nipple. Your legs turned into something resembling jelly as you grasped desperately on to his neck. He used his free hand to purposely grab your ass and lifted you a little. You were finally becoming one of those making-out-everywhere, hormone-crazed teenagers.

_The music is so loud_

_It drowns out the talk_

_All over the world_

_Just give us more rokk_

You shifted uncomfortably. Your straining hard-on had started to grow unbearable. And you were running out of oxygen. This Russian was pretty understanding, you noted briefly when he pulled out. You were tempted to touch those lips, and you did without any hesitation. His lips were slightly glistening despite the dim surrounding. He grinned and licked your adventurous fingers, if only to see you writhe desperately. You couldn't bear it anymore. So you begged in a stubborn and demanding tone, "please." And he reached for your zipper, almost gracefully. The band was still singing.

_The music is so loud_

_The night is so young_

_All over the world_

_We wanna have fun_

You didn't even care anymore when he chuckled. What's wrong with chick-decorated boxers, dear lollipops? He left no time for you to get annoyed as he freed your member. You sighed in relief, suppressing the urge to moan. Loud. You were saving it for the next, upcoming pleasure. With his knees, he pulled down your skinny jeans further. He hummed right next to your ear and stroked You Jr. "Ooohhh…" You tried to tell the world how awesome the feeling was, but no one heard you. You grabbed onto his shirt harder. Your legs were starting to give out and shake, and without hesitation, you shut down your brilliant ego with one thought: this was even more awesome than yourself.

_The music gets louder_

_Please don't call the cops_

_All over the world_

_We just wanna rokk_

He licked and sucked on your already-abused neck, thumbing the head of your throbbing cock. It felt like you were gonna pee or something when he smeared the pre-cum around. Okay, wait a minute. You sounded like that was your first handjob ever! ...Well, technically... yes, it was. You had only ever touched yourself over some Japanese porn before. And now, you were thankful that the brand-new feeling you were experiencing was completely… heavenly. You whimpered as your little Russian friend-with-benefits latched your lips with his again lustfully. The sensation! You wanted to scream at the feeling of being kissed so deeply and hotly. And that, mixed with the hard, brash, but somehow-soothing pumps on your manhood... well, that was nice, too.

_We just wanna rokk_

"Gilbert."

_We just wanna rokk_

You panted in reply.

_We just wanna rokk_

Almost there.

_We just wanna rokk_

You came on his hand.

**[xx!YOU ROCK!xx]**

**A/N:** FOR THE SAKE OF NANTUCKET! I finished this! WHOA! WOHOOOOOOO! *coughcough* O-okay. Take it easy, guys. Just bear with me; this is my first Hetalia one-shot. Not my first Hetalia fanfiction, but you may count this as the first successful one. Ohoho. :3

So it is pretty clear that this is some kind of song-fic, and is indeed very weird. I'm sorry if the last lines were kind of… you know, out of relevance somewhat because they didn't reflect the lyrics like the prior ones. But I didn't think you guys would mind because those lines were hot xD *runs* and anyway, the idea of writing this came because my dearest friend (who loves Arthur so much that I call her Iggy) bought a PS2 and immediately bought GH II. Man, I really love this song! (L.T.M.R, I mean) and this is the only song I can pass on the hard difficulty x'DDD I ain't that good of a GH player you know!

And I'm so thanking dellums for being my beta reader. You're an awesome pal, you know that? ILY so much! *gives Nutella*

SO HOW WAS IT, REALLY? *rolls* If you guys are being niiicee to me, you'll get a sequel. OOPS. DID I SAY SEQUEL?


End file.
